


Stakeout

by RobinWritesChirps



Category: Spies Are Forever - Talkfine/Tin Can Brothers
Genre: Crushes, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Pre-Canon, Sharing a Bed, Spies & Secret Agents, Stakeout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29048079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinWritesChirps/pseuds/RobinWritesChirps
Summary: Owen’s mission is barged in on by a certain charming agent ready to grab his whole attention for himself. Not that Owen minds.Lighthearted fluffy pre-relationship, pre-canon ficlet.
Relationships: Owen Carvour/Agent Curt Mega
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	Stakeout

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lichinamo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lichinamo/gifts).



> Jess this is for your birthday, happy birthday my beautiful friend ily I’m sorry I don’t write them as well as you do! Hope you like this new year. Very grateful to have you as a pal.

Agent Curt Mega, the peak of what the new world had to offer in sleuth and discretion, a top field agent renowned among his American peers, bold and brave and so terribly cocky, had nothing in him to one up Owen Carvour in subtlety on any given day, a fact both of them were well aware of and one of them tried to deny with all his might.

"Hair on the doorknob, Mega," Owen said to the dark room that wanted itself empty upon stepping in. "Beginner trick, I thought you would have checked."

The room sighed in response and Curt Mega appeared out of thin air, and wasn’t that pout at his lips worth all the trouble that always came with the arrival? Curt plopped on the bed as though it belonged to him and always had, dangled his legs like a child losing at his favorite game.

"Just once in our lives, I’d like you to pretend I’ve caught you off-guard. The reaction is half the fun, I’m putting in all the effort here."

A spy at work, a spy on his down time, smug little Curt always had a secretive plan in mind. Though he hid it, Owen was not unhappy to have someone around for conversation in what promised to be a couple of dreadfully boring days. Curt had a way to make himself as endearing as he was insufferable.

"When you catch me by surprise, I’ll give you all the reaction you want, love," he said.

"But come on! _I_ always pretend like I’m surprised when you get me!"

Owen snorted and got to work taking all precautions he had ensured earlier already, every time he would enter this room, to lock it as securely and efficiently as he could. How Curt had made his way in here, he did not quite know, but he could only hope the rest of the world lacked the wits to find him out like the fellow had. Certainly no one was as determined as Curt to spend time with him. The ones who sought Owen did not tend to do it for the pleasure of his company.

"No, you don’t," he replied simply, throwing Curt a glance across the room. He smirked. "You don’t _pretend_."

Curt, delightful Curt as high in cheer as low in sorrow, briefly burst into laughter but Owen stopped him with a glance. He had no plans of being found out here if he could help it, not even for Curt’s warm and unbothered laughter.

"Oh fuck off," Curt said gleefully. "What’s the mission about, anyways?"

"I’ll tell you when you tell me how you tracked me down."

"A magician never reveals his secrets," Curt said, wriggling his fingers across the air playfully. Still, he sighed with contentment and rested on the bed as merry as though this was a pajama party rather than a boring stakeout. "I’m sure you’ll do it perfectly and the Queen will knight you or whatever."

Owen checked outside the window across the street, an eye on the exact curtain he was to be observing all day, all night, likely well into the next day. When it would be opened, then that was his cue, but it remained now as before his break tightly shut. His gun was ready, though. Owen’s plans ran impeccable when he had his way.

"Yes, dear, that’s exactly how this works. Orders of Buckingham. I shouldn’t want to disappoint Her Majesty, now, would I?"

Curt chuckled. Leaning down, he untied his shoes to make himself more comfortable on the bed and just so, they smiled at each other in the tacit acknowledgment that they would be spending the next couple of days solely in each other’s conversation and company. There were worse plans than to be locked by his own hand in a room with Agent Mega. He could think of much, much worse than that.

It was a long day spent in the blink of an eye. Curt made work easy, talking easy, smiling easy with his jokes and foolish effrontery. He was relentlessly childish but in all the best of ways, and Owen had always been charmed by his presence, though he would be remiss to have to admit to it. Perhaps the obvious secrecy around some of his leanings, perhaps because of oddly placed national loyalties. Curt was American through and through, that was plain. On anyone else, the accent sounded crude and ill-mannered to Owen. On Curt especially so, but he was sometimes finding that he did not mind that much. Either way, there was a gap ever narrowing between the two men and Owen was impressed to see exactly how close it would come to.

"You’re too solitary," Curt reproached him.

He was sitting cross legged on one end of the bed, tossing cards between them. Owen was sitting closer to the window to keep an eye out, though the distraction was great. Curt did sap all attention from the rest of the world to himself.

"You play the lonesome cowboy, but it looks strange on a Brit," he went on. The cards split in two untidy piles, Curt grabbed his hand to have a look. Always his heart on his sleeve, his grimace told Owen everything of the game to come. "Why so lonely, then?"

"I’ll say this, Agent Mega, I’d never **take you for anything but a Yank," Owen said. He looked down at his hand. Not too bad, though _he_ would never let it show. "I’m not lonely at all. I have all the friends I want."

Curt scoffed and boldly slammed his first card down. Outside across the street, the curtains were still drawn, the same impassible beige as before.

"You really don’t, you’d run all your missions alone if it weren’t for me finding your ass wherever."

Owen looked at him and winked.

"Precisely," he said and played his card which bested Curt’s by far.

They spent all day together passing time and talking − Curt more than him by far, but Owen was on a mission and he trusted that Curt knew that well. They had met on the job, they would live out the rest of the sad story of their lives on the job, they might as well die on the job one day, but that did not mean they had to be alone. Once a spy, always a spy, so why not share the work together and enjoy it while they were at it? Curt had the right of it deep down. There was joy in living in the moment, in the midst of thrill.

Not that thrill was part of the adventure today. The hours passed, the sun set down in the horizon and still the closed curtain stared back at him just as it had the entire day. He felt his eyelids drooping despite himself and cursed inwardly. Whatever chiding or teasing he had expected from Curt never came, but instead his brow furrowed in concern and he touched Owen’s arm.

"Here, you’re tired, I’ll take over the stakeout," he offered. "Go to bed."

He sat up and gestured for Owen to lie down where he had been snoozing on and off himself just now. Owen shook his head.

"If I lie down, I won’t be able to get back up," he retorted.

Curt rolled his eyes. His flair for drama was matched only by his devotion and he tugged Owen’s sleeve rather willfully to force him down.

"Don’t be ridiculous," he said, assertive. "You’ll miss your cue if you fall asleep by accident."

He made a little show of tucking Owen into bed as though he was a doting mother rather than a faithful friend, and they chuckled dumbly when he pressed a quick kiss to Owen’s forehead for goodnight. He patted the covers gently. Owen smiled.

"There," Curt said. "Lil stakeout snooze. I’ll watch."

"You’re a bloody idiot, Mega, and that’s final," Owen said. The bedding was coarse, the mattress lumpy, but Curt’s touch must have had a bit of magic to it, for he felt much more sleepy with every slow breath and his eyes blinked lazily. "Don’t miss the cue."

"I won’t," Curt promised.

In the morning, the curtains across the street were wide open and Curt was fast asleep next to Owen. They had locked themselves in an embrace only separated by the scratchy bed sheets of a lowest grade motel and Curt’s face was nuzzled into his neck. Every breath of his, every slow rise and fall made Owen a little calmer, a little more at peace with the world and with the failed mission. He turned around to face Curt more overtly and threw an arm around his shoulders.

A little sigh, a stretch in all his length like a cat woken by sunshine from a nap, Curt opened his eyes with the tenderest of smiles. The sight, blessed as it was, was exceedingly short-lived when a glance out the window told him what Owen himself had noticed from the moment he had woken as well.

"Oh, fuck, we missed our cue..." Curt whimpered. "Shit, fuck, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to…"

He scrambled off on the bed, began searching for whatever it was that would turn time around and make the mission less of a failure. Owen stood at once to stop him. He reached out a hand, stroked slow fingers across the cheek of fretting little Mega. Hesitant, yes, but bolder when all attitude drained from Curt and all that was left was whatever was yet soft and mellow in the man. He cupped his face and Curt let out a small sigh, halfway into a gasp but could either of them really pretend surprise now? It was odd how a brief moment in time could have been in the building steadily for months and months on end, yet now that it was in his palm, so fleeting and strange.

"No," Owen replied softly, "We didn't."

And he pressed his lips to Curt’s to kiss him.


End file.
